


gauze

by castielsass



Series: Therapy [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:08:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass





	gauze

Will stumbled back to bed somehow, tears drying on his cheeks and blood clotting over his nose and thighs.   
  
He heard his dad climb into bed, the shift of sheets and the creak of the bed as he settled, apparently forgetting to lock him in. Will lay on his bed for a moment, not closing the bedroom door. After an indeterminable amount of time, minutes or hours, the guttural snoring of his father echoed loud in the hall.   
  
Will pulled himself off the bed, wincing at the creak of the metal, turning on his side to get up to avoid hurting himself. He tugged sweatpants on, yanking them up over his bloodstained boxers. They were Matthew’s, but he wouldn’t mind. Will slipped on running shoes and shoved his keys in his pocket, disappearing down the stairs. He didn’t muffle his steps or sneak, but he closed the front door gently. It was cold outside and Will immediately regretted not slipping on a jacket or hoodie.   
  
Matthew’s house wasn’t very far away, but he walked fast enough to make him sweat a little even in the chill, wind settling into his clothes and making him shake. His thighs ached, the skin higher up irritated and red.   
  
Will stumble over the curb in front of Matthew’s house, almost catching himself against Matthew’s dad’s car before he remembered the alarm. The stagger made his leg twist and the wound in the back of his thigh cracked open, blood hot as it dripped down his cold legs. He stood at the door for a minute, helpless.   
  
It was three am, and Matthew and his dad were probably asleep. He turned, hesitating when Matthew’s dad’s dog burst through the gate, throwing herself at Will’s feet and yapping loud enough to wake the neighbor, whose bedroom light flipped on.   
  
Will knelt quickly, his hips sore and hushed the puppy, sinking his cold hands into her thick fur. He barely got his hands on her when she quieted and the door opened behind him. He turned quickly, surprised and almost tripped over the puppy.   
  
Matthew’s dad Michael stood in the door looking confused, but not angry.   
  
Will opened his mouth to apologise but Michael frowned at him, leaning forward a little and seeing the cut over Will’s nose.  
  
  
“Hey, Will,” Michael said, gently like he was soothing a spooked horse. “Come on in, kid.”  
Will didn’t move for a minute, biting his lip regretfully.   
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t realise it was so...early… I can come bac-”  
  
  
Michael made a hushing noise, similar to the one Will had made to the puppy and he pulled the door back, welcoming Will inside. He followed him, as Michael locked the door. The house was warm, messy and it smelled like clean linen and fur from the puppy. Even when he sniffed hard he couldn’t get the scent of alcohol. Michael was wearing pyjamas that matched, with blue pinstripes and it made Will smile a little. He didn’t demand answers, just led him into the kitchen. A quiet click made Will blink as Michael turned the kettle on.  
  
  
“I’m gonna make some tea, why don’t you go on up and wake Matty?” Michael asked. He looked at the mark swelling Will’s nose and darkening his eyes, but he didn’t stare. His grey hair was short, ruffled from sleep while his blue eyes were patient.  
  
  
“You don’t have to wake him,” Will mumbled. Michael took three mugs, deep and old chipped yellow things out of the cabinet.  
  
  
“As lovely as I am I don’t think you came here to see me,” Michael reminded him gently. Will exhaled a little in amusement and let himself upstairs. The hall was dark and Will didn’t come over very often, but he didn’t need to turn on a light as he entered Matthew’s room. Matthew was sleeping on his stomach, his arm thrown over his pillow. The golden cross over his bed glittered in the light from his window and Will woke him gently, with his hand on his bare shoulder.   
  
Matthew came awake like he was climbing out of a pool, blinking slow and steady at him. He looked pleased to see Will and for some reason that made him want to cry.  
  
  
“Matty?” He asked and his voice came out like wind through a hole, shaky and soft. Matthew seemed to wake up fully at this and he sat up and pulled Will closer automatically, curling him in his sleep-warm arms.  
“Happened?” Matthew asked, croaking a little with sleep but alert.  
“I had a fight with my dad,” Will said. “I probably shouldn’t have came here, I’m sorry. I woke your dad.”  
  
  
“He’ll get over it,” Matthew said dismissively. “He downstairs?”  
  
  
Will nodded and Matthew rubbed his back, his index finger stroking a line down his spine. “He’s making tea,” Will said and Matthew snorted, standing up and pulling Will with him. He held Will’s hand but Will slipped free, shy. Matthew didn’t reach again, but he led Will down to the kitchen, almost tripping on a pile of towels left for no apparent reason in the middle of the hall. Will couldn’t imagine that in his dad’s house. In the kitchen Michael was yawning as he made chamomile tea for   
  
Will, adding a small dollop of honey. He made black tea for himself and his son and Will thanked him with a tiny frown. His own dad never remembered Will’s drink preferences. Guilt made the tea sour in his mouth.  
  
  
“Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you, I didn’t mean to. I’m gonna go home in a minute anyway, you should go back to bed,” Will said.  
  
  
Michael shrugged, slurping his tea with a noise that made Matthew snort again. “I’ll go as soon as I get a look at your face,” Michael said, gentle but firm.   
  
Matthew looked up in confusion, the darkness of his bedroom and the hall having kept him blind.  
  
  
“Happened your face?” Matthew demanded, sleep apparently having stole the first words of his sentences. Will drank his tea, his chest warming pleasantly with the honey.  
  
  
“I had a fight with my dad,” Will said again, shrugging a little.  
  
  
“He hit you?” Michael asked. His voice was deep and open and Will knew no matter what he would say, it wouldn’t make Michael or Matthew look at him differently.  
  
  
“No, I hit my face against the footboard of the bed,” Will said, honest but evasive. Matthew’s eyes felt hot as they evaluated his body, fixing on the stain of blood soaking through the thigh of his sweatpants from the cut.  
  
  
“Why were you by the bed?” Michael asked, pushing firm but easy. Matthew stood from the stool he’d perched on, his face drawn.  
  
  
“Why’re you bleeding?” He demanded, the careful pressure of his father lost in his questions.  
  
  
“M’dad hit me with the belt,” Will said and it felt liberating and terrifying all at once to say it out loud.   
  
“Please don’t tell anyone,” he said quietly and Michael nodded a little. He was kind, he was a good man, but he wasn’t a brave one. He wouldn’t report it if it made life for him or Matthew difficult and he wouldn’t confront Will’s dad about it. Matthew looked like he was a moment from stealing the car and running his dad down.  
  
  
Michael lay a hand on Matthew's shoulder and Matthew shook it off abruptly. Michael disappeared into the utility room, coming back with a green first aid kit.   
  
Matthew looked like he was going to take it off of him, but he restrained himself. Michael was a firefighter and although most of his job was sitting behind a desk and manning the command station, he was still trained in first aid. The box rattled when Michael clicked it open and he gestured Will closer.   
  
He’d forgotten to put his glasses on before he left the house. Michael looked at the mark across his nose for a minute, his brow creased before he went to wash his hands and slip on sterile gloves.   
  
Matthew moved closer, like he wanted to hold him, but he didn’t reach out and Will was grateful for it. Matthew sought physical contact frequently, and Will knew it disappointed him that he didn’t welcome it as much as Matt did. Will needed safety to be comfortable with physical touch, particularly from Matthew and there were frighteningly few places he felt safe. Will closed his eyes when Michael lay his hands, cool and rubbery from the gloves either side of his face, tilting it gently.   
  
Will kept his eyes closed while Michael sent Matt for an ice pack. He took out a cotton bud, soaking it carefully in antiseptic and stroking it over the wound, hushing Will when he hissed. Matthew returned with the ice pack, standing close to Will, radiating worry and anger with every breath. Michael taped his nose carefully with a butterfly bandage, closing the wound up and took his gloves off.   
  
He tossed them in the overflowing trash can in the corner of the kitchen. Matthew wrapped the icepack in a thin towel and lay it over Will’s nose gently, where the force of the collision was giving him black eyes. Will closed his eyes and Matthew’s hands came to rest at his lower back, supporting and gentle.  
  
  
“You can stay here tonight,” Michael said, closing up the first aid kit. He didn’t put it away and Will blushed hard, knowing he was leaving it so Matthew could take it and look after the cuts on Will’s backside. “I’ll call your father in the morning.”  
  
  
Will shook his head before thinking and the ice clicked against his sore nose. “No, he’ll kill me. I need to go home.”  
Michael shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere now, Will. It’s late and your father’s gonna be asleep ‘till morning. Won’t do either of you any harm to get a breath away from each other for a night. Go on up to bed, now,” Michael said. Will blushed deep under bruises when he realised Michael was sending him to Matthew’s bed.  
  
  
“Thanks,” Will said softly. A click of nails against the floor indicated the dog bustling through the door like she owned the place and wanted to see what was going on. She went right up to Will, leaning her big head against his thigh and pushing on it until he petted her. 

  
  


Michael went back to bed first, his long pyjama pants swishing against the tiled floor. Will finished his tea, and Matthew poured his down the drain, still looking like he was fighting with himself to stay and not go to Will’s dad.  
  
  
Upstairs Matthew locked his door from the inside, and Will blinked for a second until the light came on, energy-saving bulb casting a slow low light. Almost as soon as the door was closed Will shoved his sweatpants off, the knobbly material agonising against his burning skin. Matthew came forward, turning his body carefully and the heat of his gaze on Will’s thighs made him blush.  
  
  
“Will you lie down and take your boxers off and let me ice the bruises?” Matthew asked, and it was a real question, Will knew. If Will said no, Matthew would let him lay down, and go right to sleep. “Put something on what’s bleeding?”  
  
  
Will pushed on the band of his boxers, letting them pool around his ankles and wincing at the stains of blood on the lavendar material.  
  
  
“I have pain relief Neosporin,” Matthew said, laying the first aid kit on the bedside table. His room was possibly the only room in the house that wasn’t very messy. It mostly had books on the floor in piles and clothes draped over the chair at his desk. Will went to lay down on the bed, his knees close together as he lay on his stomach, his head turned to the side. Matthew’s hand came down on his upper thigh, gentle.  
  
  
“You wanna do it or can I?” Matthew asked, his voice so low and intent it make Will loop his arms around the pillow he lay on. It smelled like Matt, a little like chlorine and smoke and old paper.  
  
  
“Will you?” He asked. The words were barely finished when Matthew’s weight dipped the edge of the bed and his hands, cool with pain relief ointment smoothed gently over the wounds from the belt buckle. He stroked lightly over the edges where the belt had broken skin, the ointment sinking into the flesh and relieving the persistent burn and ache. When it was absorbed, Matthew pressed gauze bandages gently over the worst welts, to relieve his pain enough to sit tomorrow.   
  
When he was done, he wiped his hands down, tossing the empty packages into the trash can. Will was dozing lightly, his pain eased enough to let him drop off, so Matthew climbed into bed carefully, pulling Will in close to his body and tucking the blanket around him, gentle enough not to wake, and not to irritate wounds.


End file.
